


priorities

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [111]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, oh the sweet sweet emotional metaphors going on here, what's this? Emotions? in MY fic? it's more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: You can't go backthe Precursors tell him.Newton Geiszler looks them head on and tells them to go fuck themselves.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [111]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Kudos: 31





	priorities

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: ""I didn't say I didn't care. I just loved them more.""
> 
> (many kudos to @bae-science on tumblr for writing the monologue)

The sun shines in through the curtains, left open; burn bright.

_God,_ Newt thinks, _I feel like I haven’t slept in a week._

He blinks, once, and then lets out a hiss of discomfort. It feels like there’s sand rubbing into his eyes.

Oh; right.

He _has_ been awake for almost a week straight—or at least, his body has; Newt has no idea why they’ve chosen to step back and let him take a peak around now. Pettines, probably; the bastards love making him clean up after their messes.

He sighs; deeply, the breath whistling through his nose. He’s congested; great. Now not only is he going to have to deal with the headache that is work, while having the Precursors hover over his shoulder and wrench back control at any moment without warning.

Of course, that’s when Shao decides to drop the proverbial bomb. “We are presenting the drones to the council in two days’ time,” she says; tone brooking no argument, and Newt starts.

“_What?_” he says, “_when?_”

“Two days, Geiszler,” she repeats, impatiently. “You were the one to push for it, do you not remember?”

“I did—? Oh, yeah, I did,” Newt corrects himself. Shit. _Shit._ Fuck, how long’s it been since the last time he was fully up? They hadn’t even begun beta-testing the remote piloting systems last time he was fronting!

He presses the hollows above his eyes, nails digging in. “Right,” he says, hollowly; wonders, suddenly, why he feels so fucking tired; waves an intern over for a coffee.

God; they’re really almost there.

There’s nothing he can do, really; if he tries to make off and run, they’ll take control, and, well—Newt _really_ doesn’t want that, considering his compliance is, like, the only thing he has to bargain to keep Hermann safe.

Is it selfish of him to sacrifice humanity for Hermann? Yeah, yeah it is, but the reality is, they’ll go on with the plan even if Newt breaks out; it’ll just slow them down a bit, and then straight back to business, and Hermann will be dead.

They’re really only keeping Hermann alive to force Newt to not interfere, but at this point, Newt doesn’t really care; Hermann’s safe, and that’s what matters.

* * *

Hermann’s there.

That’s all he can think, trapped in his own mind—not as tightly as usual, free enough that he can see what’s going on—; Hermann’s here, Hermann’s here, Hermann’s _here_ and he’s going to get _hurt._

He’s already hurting; Newt can see it; see the pain in his eyes and the sadness behind his tremulous smile as he races down to the landing pad; the disappointment and pain when the Precursors dismiss his ideas out of hand.

Then they send the drones rogue and Hermann fucking _breaks into Shao,_ and gives this half-sarcastic half-panicked reply when Newt asks him, “How the _hell_ did you get in?” and then they’re _caught,_ of course they are.

“What are you doing?” Hermann asks; gaze snapping to Newt’s; turns from jubilation to horror as the Precursors initiate the sequence, say, _Ending the world._ “Precursors,” he whispers, and then Newt’s moving forward, _knows_ what they’re meaning to do and he’s _screaming,_ thrashing against the confines of his mind as Hermann struggles beneath his grip.

“N—Newton,” he begs, and—his fingers are gentle on Newt’s own; reassuring.

_Fuck!_ Newt screams, and with all the strength his mind has left, batters away at the confines of his mind; the Precursors giving away and he tumbles—

Rips his fingers from Hermann’s neck; falls, knees hitting the floor. “Newton?!” Hermann shouts.

“Cancel—sequence,” Newt grits out; breathes, almost, a sigh of relief as the screen fades away from red back to normal. He lets his body fall back; exhausted, head hits the floor. Hermann’s face hovers over his; unharmed. _Thank fuck._

* * *

The cell’s standard-issue; they’ve strapped him down every way they can. Frankly, Newt can’t blame them for it.

What surprises him, really, is the fact that he’s in control. The Precursors are there, still; very, very near the surface, but not _quite._ They’ve gotten a bit weaker, Newt thinks; probably a lack of Drifting—it feels like he’s been in here for a bit, going by the marks dug into his wrists.

“Hermann,” he murmurs; almost without meaning it. God, Newt hopes he’s okay.

He is; and he’s _here,_ suddenly. “Newton?” he asks; softly, eyes wide. “Is it—?”

“It’s me,” Newt confirms; swallows, thickly. Watches as Hermann draws in a sharp breath. “Are…” he hesitates. “Are you okay?”

Hermann doesn’t speak, for a moment; then he nods, slightly; the motion making his collar slip down, exposing the dark thumb-prints on his pale skin. Newt drags in a shaky breath. “I’m alright,” Hermann replies, moving closer, until he’s close enough to reach out and touch Newt.

“I’m…” _relieved,_ he doesn’t say; _I was so fucking scared._ “Glad to know,” he tacks on instead; offers a half-attempt at a smile.

Hermann doesn’t say anything, for a moment; then: “Move your arm, please.”

“Dude,” Newt says; raises a brow. “I’m literally strapped down. That makes no sense.”

Hermann hums; sets his cane against the wall and holds himself up against the side of the chair; begins undoing the buckles. “_Hermann?_” Newt says; sharply. “Dude, what are you—?”

“Doing what I should’ve done as soon as medical came back with sufficiently human-baseline scans,” Hermann replies, and tugs the strap away from his wrist; starts on the next one. “Come on, Newton, help me get the rest of them off.”

Newt hesitates. “Hermann…”

_You think you can go back after this?_ the Precursors snarl; twist against the barriers of his mind, too weak to do much more than shout. _You know exactly what will happen; don’t pretend like you don’t care._

“I didn’t say I don’t care,” Newt murmurs; breathes in a deep breath. “I just loved them more. And I still do, and I haven’t stopped this whole time, not after year one of your bullshit torture, not after year two, or five, or ten, and I am _never_ going to stop. Because you’re right—and you almost fucking had me! I was _this_ close to giving up, no joke! I mean, I can’t lie to you guys, you’re in my head. But that just means you know exactly how fucked you are.

"Your plan was going so, _so_ good when you had me isolated, and if you had just kept everybody I care about away, I probably would have ended up just laying down and…I dunno, fizzling away? However that works? But! Guess we’ll never know now. Because guess what you stupid, hack-job, B-list, bratty-ass little bourgeoise pieces of dollar-store gum on the wall of a CVS pharmacy? You can do whatever you want to me—that’s fine. But you fucked up major. You went after my goddamn planet. And, maybe more importantly, you went after my _family._”

He stops; chest rising hard and fast as he draws in breath. Hermann’s giving him a worried look. “Newton?” he asks, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Newt says; a bit shaky; reaches over to deal with the clasp on his other wrist. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Let’s,” Hermann says, and a smile spreads across his face.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [harrowwharks](https://harrowwharks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
